Perhaps the pinnacle of the Duell design era was revealed to the public when not one, but two nearly identical parks opened in 1976 over 2100 miles apart. The Marriott corporation, known for its worldwide hotel chain, wanted to diversify and get into the booming leisure and park business. Big companies think bigger than everyone else, and so it wasn’t just the two Great America parks. Marriott intended to develop yet another location between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. This was to be their flagship property, and the announcement on January 26, 1972 promised a $70 million, 850 acre complex that included a theme park, wildlife park, marine life park, hotel, and other entertainment options. The idea was to promote the “mini-vacation,” as Marriott put it. As they would soon discover, the real idea was actually finding a way to get it done. As was to be the fate of a similar Disney proposal in the mid-90s, the plan continuously ran afoul of powerful local residents who wanted no part of it. Challenges with local officials over water, sewage, and highway access dogged the project. Land was first purchased near Laurel, MD, then sold as they switched gears for a scaled-down property in Manassas, VA, then back to try again with an even smaller park of 65 acres near the first location at Guilford, MD. It would prove to be quite a ride for the company.

First up was the 850 acre site in Howard County situated near Interstate 95 and Route 32, south of Columbia. Taking the exit from I-95, the old Guilford Methodist Church came into view, resting peacefully on one of those acres as it had for decades. And that’s pretty much it other than the tiny graveyard and lots of trees. Two rural communities, Guilford and Savage, had been quietly going about their business for a long time, but that was expected to change dramatically. The marine life park would feature trained whales, dolphins, seals, and the usual assortment of sea creatures in a 2400- seat theater. Visitors could wander around and even underneath massive aquariums to see various sea life up close. The 200-acre animal park took you on safari among hundreds of animals; two amphitheaters would host animal and bird shows. And then there was the theme park, divided into areas representing a place and time from America’s past. Concept art depicted a mighty sailing schooner docked in a Cape Cod New England harbor, a classic Midwestern county fair with rides, slides, and games, the Gold Rusher runaway mine train coaster in the Klondike, as well as a visit through the old Southwest, New Orleans, and the pre-Civil War South.

Reception to the plans was mixed, to say the least. Citizens on both sides banded together in a clash between the CCC (Concerned County Citizens) and the much more creatively named CHAMPS (Countians Happy About Marriott’s Park). It was the usual back and forth—economic growth and jobs versus a changing landscape that would alter their homes and communities forever. A research analyst for the Department of Economic and Community Development wrote a confidential memo blasting Economics Research Associates’ feasibility study performed on behalf of Marriott. ERA, of course, was Buzz Price’s outfit, which was busily engaged doing this sort of thing for nearly all of the regional parks at the time. But this individual found their study to be far too biased toward the company, not providing sufficient details on how things would impact the community and local government. The state of Virginia, developing its own response to Marriott’s proposal, ignored the memo and promised a favorable outcome for the project. Governor Mandel, enthusiastic over the potential growth in the area, also saw no issues that couldn’t be overcome.

But as the long months of 1972 wore on circumstances were beginning to shift. Marriott, among a flurry of politicking and PR, had offered to send local officials on a three-day, expenses-paid visit to other parks so they could see for themselves what this business was all about. Not interested. CCC kept up the pressure. Percolating from May onward, in late summer the Howard County planning board finally slammed the door shut in a 13-page report, declaring the project “completely inconsistent” with the county’s general plan and a “serious threat” to the county’s “physical and environmental amenities.”

Moving on, Marriott tried next for a 513 acre site off Interstate 66, near Manassas Battlefield. This time it was for a scaled-back, $35 million theme park that would cover about 80 acres. The thematic concepts were the same, such as the Longboat ride in the Cape Cod region and the Gold Rusher mine train. Entertainment offerings would be a multi-media presentation on Our American Heritage, a children’s cartoon character theater in the round, Dixieland band, barbershop quartet, and Mardi Gras parades. 250 full-time jobs were promised along with 1,500 seasonal positions; the park would be open approximately 140 days each year. Water and sewage questions loomed over the project, as did the request for a new interchange off I-66.

But after five months of effort, Marriott was awarded zoning and site plan approval from the Prince William County Board of Supervisors in April 1973. Nine months later everything changed—the county was rescinding their approval due to a “legal error.” Apparently there was a discrepancy with the exact number of days required for public notice of a proposal hearing. The issue? What exactly is meant by “two weeks notice”? It seemed logical at the time to consider this to mean two consecutive, five weekday periods. A recent Virginia attorney general opinion on a different matter defined it as two full seven-day weeks. On such trivia are great matters in life often determined, and this effectively killed Marriott’s second attempt in the region. The company would have to start completely over from scratch, and even though the county encouraged them to do so, they decided to look elsewhere.

“Elsewhere” was close to where they tried the first time in Howard County. Although other sites were suggested to the company, they had a pretty good idea of what they needed, and so they screwed up their courage and tried again at the place that showed them the door a few years prior. By now it was late into 1977, five years after the initial announcement. But the third time wasn't the charm as they were soundly rejected by those same officials again on Oct 3 by a zoning board vote of 3 to 1. Stated concerns were “lack of safeguards” for community impact, water issues, traffic congestion, and so on.

January 1978 found them talking with officials in Anne Arundel County, and as late as March 1978 Marriott still held expectations for getting a park built somewhere in the region, fielding numerous offers from other municipalities interested in their business. But at some point it just wasn't worth it, especially with potential construction costs now over $100 million. Meantime, throughout all of this drama, sites in Gurnee, IL and Santa Clara, CA had been acquired, planned, opened, and were already in their third season of operation.

GREAT AMERICA

The Santa Clara property had originally been conceived of by Fess Parker, who had turned to real estate development and wanted to build his own park. He, of course, had originally tried in Kentucky, only to have the Taft Corporation out-draw him when they decided to build Kings Island. Frontier World would of course have a western themed area, but also space, history, and interestingly, an area with rides based on farm and industrial machinery. “I always wanted to ride an oil well pump, you know.” Randall Duell and his team was helping Fess with ideas, traveling the country showing him various parks they had designed. At one stop, the perhaps overly-enthusiastic owner of Carowinds, thrilled to have such a celebrity visitor, tossed him into the riverboat’s waterway. Twice. The patience of Job was evident not only here, but time after time trying to meet with Santa Clara officials to get their approvals. After a potential partnership with McDonald’s founder Ray Kroc fizzled, Parker finally had enough and sold the property to Marriott.

By now Randall and his team had over a decade of experience, with some members of the company going back as far as the C.V. Wood projects in the late 50s. They had worked through lots of refinements for park layout, people movement, attractions, services, and operations, and all of this would be realized in the Marriott masterpieces. The complex puzzle of determining park scale, pathway routing and size, quantity and design of necessary services such as food and restrooms, and thousands of other details took a great deal of trial and error back then. Today’s park designers benefit greatly from their work as much of this information is found in tables and other resources. How many restrooms do you need? How long should the queue be for a major coaster? Or a kiddie flat ride? How do you plan for expansion? How many shows and attractions are necessary? None of this is based solely on preference; it’s a careful balance of budget and satisfied guests. Too little to do and lines get long, people get bored, they’re not spending money, and they don’t come back. Too much and you’ve probably blown the budget and might never recoup the expense. Although the Marriott projects were not low-budget affairs, there were certainly financial constraints the designers were obligated to meet. Herb Ryman, legendary artist for film and Disney parks, once advised a young Imagineer working on EuroDisneyland: “Eddie, bad taste costs no more.” His main point, a bit tongue-in-cheek when referring to mediocre work, was that instead of just designing a nice structure, make sure it’s got historical authenticity, which doesn’t cost anything but a little time at the library. We can also take away the notion that quality comes from an experienced artist who knows how to put together a good idea. Duell’s designers were at the top of their game in the early-mid 70s, and so they brought a quality standard many other companies simply couldn’t match.

Both Great America parks would follow almost exactly the same design; it’s quite surreal comparing side by side aerial photos from opening year. Due to higher attendance projections, the Gurnee park was slightly larger with a few more small rides, and the front entrance plaza had more room before transitioning into the parking lot. The Duell loop weaved in and out of the various themed areas, featuring nooks and crannies that provided a sense of exploration. Unnoticed by guests was a masterpiece of a solution for park services and maintenance. Over time Duell’s designers learned that large bodies of water, while beautiful, should not be placed in the park’s center. The most effective and efficient way to service a park’s restaurants, utilities, and other facilities was directly in the center, behind everything that faced outward toward the loop. Great America featured a service corridor right down the middle, a spine that supported the functions of the park. This eliminated the need to cart supplies, food, and trash along guest pathways. If a utility problem arose it could be dealt with immediately, out of sight, without having to close off a public area and dig up the pavement or lake. Water features were prominent, including numerous streams and ponds beautifully integrated with rides and walkways, but located out of the way of these essential support operations. With larger acreage to work with, each themed area was a fully-developed mini-park and not just a couple of buildings as was the case with some of the early Duell parks. Architecture, signage, entertainment, and even the food was representative of each theme and was elaborately executed. The park clearly had the stamp of a Marriott property in terms of quality, beauty, and emphasis on customer service. And of course building two nearly identical parks followed the company’s long history and expertise in perfecting and franchising a brand experience.

The most fondly remembered detail of Great America is the Columbia Carousel. The entrance to the park is exquisitely grand and elegant; resplendent at the far end of a glistening reflecting pool, the double-decker carousel serves to this day as the park icon. As a visual wienie, it calls you to come explore the grandness of the park. But this is no typical, garden-variety merry-go-round. The ornate structure is 100 feet tall (the California version is actually 101 feet and the tallest in the world). The carousel’s designer at Duell & Associates, John DeCuir, had actually come up with a three-decker (“But three levels are better than two!”) only to be talked down a bit by Randall simply because it would cost too much (the final version still cost over a million dollars). No loss, because this is truly one of the more magnificent pieces to be found at a regional park. A good thing they changed their minds from the original idea—a 300 foot tall Ferris wheel. Sure wouldn’t have been the same.

As at Carowinds, a trolley wound its way through Carousel Plaza, with turnaround loops at Orleans Place and Home Town Square. The overall theme of the park was a celebration of America; this seemed especially appropriate for a park opening in 1976, so each area was dedicated to a different region of the United States. Walking past the right side of the Columbia, we would pass underneath the railroad bridge, the station prominently positioned up to our left behind the carousel. This was Home Town Square, taking you back to small town America and featuring a central green park and gazebo surrounded by the trolley tracks. Facing the square from each side was the train station, Engine Company #1 ice cream shop, and the Hot Shoppe—a tribute to the original root beer shop where J. Willard Marriott and his wife Alice first got started in business. Enjoy one of the park’s premiere shows in the Grand Music Hall before getting in the queue for Willard’s Whizzer, a Schwarzkopf Speed Racer coaster, featuring a unique spiral lift hill (yes, it was a family name—the privilege of building your own park). Ride first, then eat, so next get a down- home chicken dinner at Maggie Brown’s Boarding House. Just up the pathway, a children’s section with pint-sized rides was in a cutout to the left before crossing over the bridge and into Midwest County Fair.

Ferris wheels are a signature feature of all fairs and carnivals, and Great America upped the ante with Sky Whirl, a gigantic custom- designed Triple Tree Wheel sold by Intamin. Though there were a few carnival games, few parks had extensive game midways such as would be added over time. It’s as though parks shunned such activities in the effort to get away from the negative carny stereotype that plagued Walt Disney during his planning. Over time it becomes more of a vintage thing, an historical throwback that gives it a fresh, wholesome attribute. A Farmer’s Market food court and bandstand, the Big Top circus shows, and a small merry-go-round contributed to the fair atmosphere. The main attractions were the Turn of the Century, a state-of-the-art Arrow corkscrew coaster, and the Barney Oldfield Speedway, featuring custom Arrow 1920s race cars traveling on no less than three tracks. The Eagle’s Flight sky ride station provided an aerial view of the park, touching down below Orleans Place, and Fairgrounds Junction serviced the railroad, making its second stop at Home Town Square.

Working our way back around the other side of the loop, we’d cross over the covered bridge that cleverly hid the central service corridor roadway and into Yukon Territory. (An interesting side note regarding the thousands of details involved in park planning—it was discovered too late that the bridge wasn’t positioned high enough to accommodate an ambulance driving along the service road underneath, making it impossible to reach anywhere in the park without traveling on the main guest pathway. There’s always something that slips by.) The great logging traditions of that rugged northwest region of Canada were represented here with pole climbing, totem pole carving, and log rolling in the lake. Although Canada is most assuredly not part of the United States, presumably the idea was to showcase life in the upper-west regions that shared similar characteristics. Dolphin shows were all the rage in the 70s, and the capacious Wilderness Theater was located just around the corner from the bridge. Arrow Development had scored big with their water flume rides, and Marriott again went all-out with a custom dual-flume configuration. Logger’s Run was the side stationed in Yukon Territory, where guests boarded log-shaped boats.

Crossing yet another bridge over a stream, Yankee Harbor was evident from the lighthouse, New England architecture, nautical theming, and lots of water. The other flume station, Yankee Clipper, featured clipper-style boats instead of logs. After enjoying a parade by the authentically-garbed Continental Militia, grab a bite at Capt. Morgan’s or Dockside Sandwiches, pick up a unique souvenir at the Nautical Shop, or watch a glassblower at work in the Glass Schooner.

Orleans Place, celebrating New Orleans and the deep South, featured a small park and gazebo similar to Home Town Square, with the other end of the trolley tracks looping around it. Architecture, including its signature wrought-iron filigree, distinguished this area along with cute French names such as Maison le Crystal, Lafitte’s Treasures, Chapeau Chateau, Rue le Dodge, and Alle Mistique Magic. The Delta Flyer sky ride station provided transportation back to the County Fair area.

Overall, the Great America parks were a showcase of design and presentation. Years of experience were reflected in the layout, theming, operations, services, and detail. Marriott wanted to build a first-rate park, and while not being extravagant and trying to match a Disney level of sophistication, the attention to quality was evident. They were of the last built-to-purpose parks from the golden age of the regionals that started with Texas. Unfortunately for the Marriott company, attendance figures didn’t meet their expectations and the parks became a burden on the company’s bottom line. They also remembered they were in the hotel business, so they decided to concentrate on that. Both parks would be sold off in 1984, the Gurnee property to Six Flags, the Santa Clara park to the city itself. Six Flags Great America would go on to several changes in ownership and management with a few ups and downs, but overall would come out performing quite well.

The California site has had an interesting saga after the Marriott sale. A local developer wanted to bulldoze everything and build an office complex. The city wanted to preserve the park, first of all because it’s generally a good thing for the social fabric of the area, but secondly because it provides thousands of jobs, particularly for young people, and stimulates economic activity. The city won the bid, a few years later selling the park itself, minus the land, to Kings Entertainment, which operated several other parks including Kings Island, Kings Dominion, and Carowinds. Paramount bought the entire chain in 1992 before eventually selling to Cedar Fair in 2006. The property is landlocked and has had to make aggressive changes in order to add new attractions. In 2011 the park was slated to be sold, again, to the owners of the 49ers football team. Cedar Fair was looking to reduce their corporate debt and had been sparring with the team for several years over a proposed stadium to be built right next door. But Cedar Fair kept the park, made an arrangement with the 49ers to solve the parking issues, and focused attention on developing the property. Fast-forward to 2022 and we ended up back where we started—the company at last gave up. After all of that, the beautiful Randall Duell masterpiece will finally meet the fate of Opryland, Libertyland, and Astroworld. We’ll probably never see anything like it again.

Postlude

In the end, Marriott got the last word in Virginia. Late in 1978, as the company was shaking the dust off their boots after the long ordeal, a regional Howard County historical group asked to borrow a “Tom Thumb” replica steam engine that was on display at the Gurnee park. The original locomotive was locally famous for an 1830 race against a horse-driven stagecoach between Baltimore and the Ellicott City terminal. The replica had recently been on-site at the local railroad museum as promotion for the planned park. The response?

“Unfortunately, the people of Howard County expressed their belief, through their elected officials, that Great America would be an unsatisfactory neighbor—on not one, but two occasions. I hope you can understand, then, our reluctance to share the fruits of our labor by way of providing our Tom Thumb replica. It was to have operated daily, carrying people, had we been able to build our park in the county.”